LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

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Shelf.../.1S^ 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



THE CELESTIAL PASSION 



^y % IV. GILDER 
I. THE UHiEW ^AY 
II. THE CELESTIAL T^ASSIOtK 
III. LYRICS 



* THE CELESTIAL 
PASSION %BY RICHARD 
WATSON GILDER ^e ^ 





PUBLISHED BY THE 
CENTURY CO. N. Y, 



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Copyright, 1878, 1885, 1887, 

By Richard Watson Gildei 

All rights reserved. 



THE DeVinne Press. 



CONTENTS. 



II. 
III. 

IV. 



II. 
III. 

IV. 

V. 

VI. 

VII. 

VIII. 

IX. 



I. 
II. 
III. 



PRELUDE. 
The Celestial Passion. 

PART I. 



Art and Life 
'The Poet and his Master 
Mors Triumphalis 
The Master-Poets 



PART II. 



A Christmas Hymn .... 

Easter 

A Madonna of Fra Lippo Lippi 

Cost 

The Song of a Heathen 

Holy Land 

A Portrait of Servetus 
■Despise not Thou" .... 
•To Rest from Weary Work" 

PART III. 

Recognition 

Hymn : Sung at the Presentation of the Obelisk 
A Thought 



PAGE 

13 
16 

21 

28 



31 

33 
36 
37 
38 
39 
40 

41 

42 



6 CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

IV. The Voice of the Pine 52 

V. Morning and Night ' . 55 

VI. "Day unto Day Uttereth Speech" . . • 5^ 



PART IV. 

I. The Soul 59 

II. "When Love Dawned" 60 

III. Love and Death 61 

I. ' ' Now who can take from us what we have 

known ? ' ' 

II. "We know not where they tarry who have 

died." 

IV. Father and Child 63 

V. "Beyond the Branches of the Pine" . .64 

VI. An Autumn Meditation 65 

VII. "Call Me Not Dead" 68 

VIII. "Each Moment Holy is" 69 

IX. "When to Sleep I Must" 69 

X. To A Departed Friend 70 

XI. "The Evening Star" 71 

XII. Life 72 

I. "Great Universe — what dost thou with thy 

dead?" 

II. " Ah, thou wilt never answer to our call." 

XIII. The Freed Spirit 74 

XIV. Undying Light 75 

I. " When in the golden western summer skies." 

II. " O thou the Lord and Maker of life and light!" 



Decorations by H. de K. 



PRELUDE 




THE CELESTIAL PASSION. 



O WHITE and midnight sky, O starry bath, 
Wash me in thy pure, heavenly, crystal flood; 
Cleanse me, ye stars, from earthly soil and scath — 
Let not one taint remain in spirit or blood! 

Receive my soul, ye burning, awful deeps; 
Touch and baptize me with the mighty power 
That in ye thrills, while the dark planet sleeps; 
Make me all yours for one blest, secret hour! 

O glittering host, O high angelic choir. 

Silence each tone that with thy music jars; 
Fill me even as an urn with thy white fire 

Till all I am is kindred to the stars ! 

Make me thy child, thou infinite, holy night, — 
So shall my days be full of heavenly light ! 



PART I. 




ART AND LIFE. 



SAID the Poet unto the Seer, 
How shall I learn to tell 
What I know of Heaven and Hell? 
I speak, but to ashes turn 
The passions that in me burn. 
I shout to the skies, but I hear 
No answer from man or God. 
Shall I throw my lyre on the sod, 
Rest, and give over the strife, 
And sink in a voiceless life? 



14 



ART AND LIFE. 

Said the Seer to the Poet : Arise 

And give to the seas and the skies 

The message that in thee burns. 

Thrice speak, though the blue sky turns 

Deaf ears, and the ocean spurns 

Thy call. Though men despise 

The word that from out thy heart 

Flameth; do thou thy part. 

Thrice speak it, aloud, I say. 

Then go, released, on thy way; 

Live thou deeply and wise; 

Suffer as never before; 

Know joy, till it cuts to the quick; 

Eat the apple, Life, to the core. 

Be thou cursed 

By them thou hast blessed, by the sick 

Whom thou in thy weakness nursed. 

With thy strength the weak endue; 

Be praised when 'twere better to blame; 

In the home of thy spirit be true, 

Though the voice of the street cry shame. 

Be silent till all is done, 



ART AND LIFE. 15 

Then return, in the light of the sun, 

And once more sing. 

Oh, then fling 

Into music thy soul ! Tell the seas 

Again all thy thought; Oh, be strong 

Thy voice as the voice of the waves, as the voice 

of the trees ! 
Tell the blast, 

That shall shudder as onward it flies 
With thy word, with thy song; 
Tell the skies. 
And the world, that shall listen at last. 



1 6 THE POET AND HIS MASTER. 



II. 

THE POET AND HIS MASTER. 

One day the poet's harp lay on the ground, 
Though from it rose a strange and trembling sound 
What time the wind swept over with a moan, 
Or, now and then, a faint and tinkling tone 
When a dead leaf fell shuddering from a tree 
And shook the silent wires all tremulously; 
And near it, dumb with sorrow, and alone 
The poet sat. His heart was like a stone. 

Then one drew near him who was robed in white : 

It was the poet's master; he had given 

To him that harp, once in a happy night 

When every silver star that shone in heaven 

Made music ne'er before was heard by mortal wight. 

And thus the master spoke: 



THE POET AND HIS MASTER. jy 

" Why is thy voice 
Silent, O poet ? Why upon the grass 
Lies thy still harp ? The fitful breezes pass 
And touch the wires, but the skilled player's hand 
jMoves not upon them. Poet, — wake! Rejoice, 
Sing and arouse the melancholy land." 

" Master, forbear. I may not sing to-day : 
My nearest friend, the brother of my heart. 
This day is stricken with sorrow, he must part 
From her who loves him. Can I sing, and play 
Upon the joyous harp, and mock his woe ? " 

"Alas, and hast thou then so soon forgot 

The bond that with thy gift of song did go — 

Severe as fate, fixed and unchangeable ? 

Even though his heart be sounding its own knell 

Dost thou not know this is the poet's lot : 

'Mid sounds of war — in halcyon times of peace — 

To strike the ringing wire and not to cease; 

In hours of general happiness to swell 

The common joy; and when the people cry 



l8 THE POET AND HIS MASTER. 

With piteous voice loud to the pitiless sky, 

'Tis his to frame the universal prayer 

And breathe the balm of song upon the accursed air ? " 

" But 'tis not, O my master, that I borrow 
The robe of grief to deck my brother's sorrow, — 
Mine eyes have seen beyond the veil of youth; 
I know what Life is, have caught sight of Truth; 
My heart is dead within me; a thick pall 
Darkens the mid-day sun." 

"And dost thou call 
This sorrow ? Call this knowledge ? O thou blind 
And ignorant ! Know, then, thou yet shalt find, 
Ere thy full days are numbered 'neath the sun. 
Thou, in thy shallow youth, hadst but begun 
To guess what knowledge is, what grief may be, 
And all the infinite sum of human misery ; 
Shalt fijid that for each drop of perfect good 
Thou payest, at last, a threefold price in blood; 
What is most noble in thee, — every thought 
Highest and best, — crushed, spat upon, and brought 



THE POET AND HIS MASTER. 19 

To an open shame; thy natural ignorance 
Counted thy crime; the world all ruled by chance, 
Save that the good most suffer; but above 
These ills another, — cruel, monstrous, worse 
Than all before, — thy pure and passionate love 
Shall bring the old, immitigable curse." 

"And thou who tell'st me this, dost bid me sing?" 

" I bid thee sing, even though I have not told 
All the deep flood of anguish shall be rolled 
Across thy breast. Nor, Poet, shalt thou bring 
From out those depths thy grief! Tell to the wind 
Thy private woes, but not to human ear, 
Save in the shape of comfort for thy kind. 
But never hush thy song, dare not to cease 
While life is thine. Haply, 'mid those who hear, 
Thy music to one soul shall murmur peace. 
Though for thyself it hath no power to cheer. 

"Then shall thy still unbroken spirit grow 
Strong in its silent suffering and more wise; 



20 



THE POET AND HIS MASTER. 



And as the drenched and thunder-shaken skies 
Pass into golden sunset — thou shalt know - 
An end of calm, when evenmg breezes blow; 
And looking on thy life with vision fine 
Shalt see the shadow of a hand divine." 




MORS TRIUMPHALIS. 



III. 



MORS TRIUMPHALIS. 



In the hall of the king the loud mocking of many 

at one; 
While lo ! with his hand on his harp the old bard 

is undone ! 
One false note, then he stammers, he sobs like a child, 

he is failing. 
And the song that so bravely began ends in discord 

and wailing. 

3 



22 MOJiS TRIUMPHALIS. 



II. 



Can it be it is they who make merry, 'tis they taunt- 
ing him ? 

Shall the sun, then, be scorned by the planets, the 
tree by the limb! 

These bardlings, these mimics, these echoes, these 
shadows at play. 

While he only is real: — they shine but as motes in 
his day! 



III. 



All that in them is best is from him; all they know 

he has taught; 
But one secret he never could teach, and they never 

have caught, — 
The soul of his songs, that goes sighing like wind 

through the reeds, 
And thrills men, and moves them to terror, to prayer, 

and to deeds. 



MORS TRIUMPHALIS. 



IV. 



23 



Has the old poet failed, then, — the singer forgotten 

his part ? 
Why, 'twas he who once startled the world with a 

cry from his heart; 
And he held it entranced in a life -song, all music, 

all love; 
If now it grow faint and grow still, they have called 

him above 



V. 



Ah, never again shall we hear such fierce music 
and sweet, — 

Surely never from you, ye who mock, — for his foot- 
stool unmeet; 

E'en his song left unsung had more power than the 
note ye prolong, 

And one sweep of his harp-strings outpassioned the 
height of your song. 



24 



MORS TRIUMPIIALIS. 



VI. 



But a sound like the voice of the pine, Hke the roar 
of the sea 

Arises. He breathes now; he sings; oh, again he 
is free. 

He has flung from his flesh, from his spirit, their 
shackles accursed, 

And he pours all his heart, all his life, in one pas- 
sionate burst. 



VII. 



And now as he chants those who listen turn pale — 

are afraid ; 
For he sings of a God that made all, and is all that- 

was made; 
Who is maker of love, and of hate, and of peace, and 

of strife; 
Smiles a world into life; frowns a hell, that yet thrifls 

with his life. 



MORS TRIUMPIIALIS. 25 



VIIT. 



And he sings of the time that shall be when the earth 

is grown old, 
Of the day when the sun shall be withered, and 

shrunken, and cold; 
When the stars, and the moon, and the sun, — all their 

glory o'erpast, — 
Like apples that shrivel and rot, shall drop into the 

Vast. 



IX. 



And onward and out soars his song on its journey 

sublime. 
Mid systems that vanish or live in the lilt of his 

rhyme ; 
And through making and marring of races, and worlds, 

still he sings 
One theme, that o'er all and through all his wild 

music outrings ; — ■ 



2 6 MORS TRIUMPHALIS. 



This one theme : that whate'er be the fate that has 

hurt us or joyed, 
Whatever the face that is turned to us out of the 

void ; 
Be it cursing or blessing; or night, or the Ught of 

the sun ; 
Be it ill, be it good; be it Hfe, be it death, it is 

One; — 



XI. 



One thought, and one law, and one awful and infinite 

power ; 
In atom, and world; in the bursting of fruit and of 

flower ; 
The laughter of children, and roar of the lion untamed; 
And the stars in their courses — one name that can 

never be named. 



MORS TRIUMPHALIS. 27 



XII. 



But sudden a silence has fallen, the music has fled; 
Though he leans with his hand on his harp, now 

indeed he is dead! 
But the swan-song he sang shall for ever and ever 

abide 
In the heart of the world, with the winds and the 

murmuring tide. 



28 THE MASTER-POETS. 



IV. 
THE MASTER-POETS. 

He the great World- Musician at whose stroke 
The stars of morning into music broke; 
He from whose Being Infinite are caught 
All harmonies of light, and sound, and thought, — 
Once in each age, to keep the world in tune 
He strikes a note subhme. Nor late, nor soon, 
A god-like soul, — music and passion's birth, — 
Vibrates across the discord of the earth 
And sets the world aright. 

O, these are they 
Who on men's hearts with mightiest power can play,- 
The master-poets of humanity, 
Sent down from heaven to lift men to the sky. 



PART II. 




A CHRISTMAS HYMN. 



T 



ELL me what is this innumerable throng 
Singing in the heavens a loud angelic song ? 
These are they who come with swift and 



shining feet 



From round about the throne of God the 
Lord of Light to greet. 



II. 



Oh, who are these that hasten beneath the starry sky — 
As if with joyful tidings that through the world 
shall fly? — 



32 A CHRISTMAS HYMN. 

The faithful shepherds these, who greatly were 

afeared 
When, as they watched their flocks by night, 

the heavenly host appeared. 



HI. 



Who are these that follow across the hills of night 
A star that westward hurries along the fields of light ? 
Three wise men from the East who myrrh 

and treasure bring 
To lay them at the feet of him their Lord 
and Christ and King. 



IV. 



What babe new-born is this that in a manger cries? 
Near on her lowly bed his happy mother lies. 

Oh, see the air is shaken with white and 

heavenly wings — 
This is the Lord of all the earth, this is the 
King of Kings. 



EASTER. 33 



11. 



EASTER. 



When in the starry gloom 

They sought the Lord Christ's tomb, 

Two angels stood in sight 

All dressed in burning white 

Who unto the women said, 

" Why seek ye the Hving among the dead ? " 

II. 

His life, his hope, his heart, 

With death they had no part: 

For this those words of scorn 

First heard that holy morn, 

When the waiting angels said, 

"Why seek ye the Uving among the dead?" 

4 



34 



EASTER. 



III. 



O, ye of this latter day, 

Who journey the self-same way — 

Through morning's twilight gloom 

Back to the shadowy tomb: 

To you, as to them, was it said, 

"Why seek ye the living among the dead?" 



IV. 



The Lord is risen indeed. 

He is here for your love, for your need — 

Not in the grave, nor the sky, 

But here where men live and die; 

And true the word that was said, 

" Why seek ye the living among the dead ? " 



Wherever are tears and sighs. 
Wherever are children's eyes, 



EASTER. 32 

Where man calls man his brother, 

And loves as hunself another, 

Christ lives ! The angels said 

" Why seek ye the living among the dead ? " 



^6 A MADONNA OF FRA LIPPO LIP PI. 

III. 

A MADONNA OF FRA LIPPO LIPPI. 

No HEAVENLY maid we here behold, 
Though round her brow a ring of gold; 
This baby, solemn-eyed and sweet, 
Is human all from head to feet. 

Together close her palms are prest 
In worship of that godly guest ; 
But glad her heart and unafraid 
While on her neck his hand is laid. 

Two children, happy, laughing, gay, ,^ 
Uphold the little child in play; 
Not flying angels these, what though 
Four wings from their four shoulders grow. 

Fra Lippo, we have learned from thee 

A lesson of humanity ; 

To every mother's heart forlorn. 

In every house the Christ is born. 



COST, 37 

IV. 
COST. 

Because Heaven's cost is Hell, and perfect joy 
Hurts as hurts sorrow; and because we win 
No boon of grace without the cost of sin, 
Or suffering born of sin; because the alloy 

Of blood but makes the bliss of victory brighter ; 
Because true worth hath surest proof herein — 
That it should be reproached, and called akin 
To evil things,— black making white the whiter: 

Because no cost seems great near this — that He 
Should pay the ransom wherewith we were priced ; 
And none could name a darker infamy 

Than that a god was spit upon — enticed 

By those he came to save, to the accursed tree — 
For this I know that Christ indeed is Christ. 



38 THE SONG OF A HE A THEN. 

V. 
THE SONG OF A HEATHEN. 

(sojourning in GALILEE,. A. D. 32.) 



If Jesus Christ is a man, — 

And only a man, — I say 
That of all mankind I cleave to him, 

And to him will I cleave alway. 



If Jesus Christ is a God, — 

And the only God, — I swear 
I will follow Him through Heaven and hell, 

The earth, the sea, and the air ! 



HOL V LAND. ^Q 



VI. 
HOLY LAND. 



This is the earth he walked on ; not alone 
That Asian country keeps the sacred stain ; 
'Tis not alone the far Judaean plain, 
Mountain and river! Lo, the sun that shone 

On him, shines now on us; when day is gone 
The moon of Galilee comes forth again 
And lights our path as his : an endless chain 
Of years and sorrows makes the round world one. 

The air we breathe, he breathed, — the very air 
That took the mold and music of his high 
And godlike speech. — Since then shall mortal dare 

With base thought front the ever-sacred sky, — 
Soil with foul deed the ground whereon he laid 
In holy death his pale, immortal head! 



40 ON A PORTRAIT OF SERVETUS. 

VII. 
ON A PORTRAIT OF SERVETUS. 

Thou grim and haggard wanderer who dost look 
With haunting eyes forth from the narrow page, — 
I know what fires consumed with inward rage 
Thy broken frame, what tempests chilled and shook ! 

Ah, could not thy remorseless foeman brook 

Time's sure devourment, but must needs assuage 

His anger in thy blood, and blot the age 

With that dark crime which virtue's semblance took ! 

Servetus ! that which slew thee lives to-day, 

Though in new forms it taints our modern air ; 
Still in heaven's name the deeds of hell are done : 

Still on the high-road, 'neath the noon-day sun. 
The fires of hate are lit for them who dare 
Follow^ their Lord along the untrodden way. 



''DESPISE NOT thou:' 41 

VIII. 
"DESPISE NOT THOU." 

Despise not thou thy father's ancient creed, — 
Of his pure Ufe it was the golden thread 
Whereon bright days were gathered, bead by bead. 
Till holy Death lay low that reverend head. 

From olden faith how many a glorious deed 
Hath Ht the world ! its blood-stained banner led 
The martyrs heavenward; yea, it was the seed 
Of knowledge, whence our modern freedom spread. 

Not always has man's credo proved a snare, — 
But a dehverance, a sign, a flame 
To purify the dense and pestilent air, — 

Writing on pitiless h£avens one pitying name: — 
And 'neath the shadow of the dread eclipse 
It shines on dying eyes and palHd lips. 



42 ''TO REST FROM WEARY work:'- 

IX. 

"TO REST FROM WEARY WORK." 

To REST from weary work one day of seven; 
One day to turn our backs upon the world, 
Its soil wash from us, and strive on to Heaven, — 
Whereto we daily climb, but quick are hurled 

Down to the pit of human pride and sin. 
Help me, ye powers celestial ! to come nigh ; 
Ah, let me catch one little glimpse within 
The heavenly city, lest my spirit die. 

These be my guides, my messengers, my friends: 
Books of wise poets ; the musician's art ; 
The ocean whose deep music never ends; 

The silence of the forest's shadowy heart ; 
And, too, the brooding organ's solemn blare. 
And kneeling multitudes' low-murmuring prayer. 



PART III. 




RECOGNITION. 



IN darkness of the visionary night 
This I beheld : Wide space and therein God, 
God who in dual nature doth abide, — 
Love, and the Loved One, Power and Beauty's self; 
Him even the spirit's eye might not transfix 
But sidelong gazed, fainting before the light. 
And forth from God did come, with dreadful thrill. 
And starry music like to million wires 
That shiver with the breathings of the dawn, — 
Creation, boundless, bodiless, unformed, 

5 45 



46 RECOGNITION. 

And white with trembhng fire and light intense, 

And outward pulsings like the boreal flame. ^ 

One mighty cloud it seemed, nor star, nor earth. 

Or like a nameless growth of the under-seas : 

Creation dumb, unconscious, yet alive 

With some deep inward passion unexpressed. 

And swift, concentric, never-ceasing urge, — 

Resolving gradual to one disk of fire. 

And as I looked, behold! the flying rim 

Grew separate from the center; this again 

Divided, and the whole stiU swift revolved, 

Ring within ring, and fiery wheel in wheel; 

Till, sudden or slow as chanced, the outmost edge 

Whirled into fragments, each a separate sun. 

With lesser globes attendant on its flight. 

These while I gazed turned dark with smoldering fire 

And, slow contracting, grew to solid orbs. 

Then knew I that this planetary world. 

Cradled in light, and curtained with the dawn 

And starry eve, was born; though in itself 

Complete and perfect all, yet but a part 

And atom of the living universe. 



RECOGNITION. 



47 



II. 

Unconscious still the child of the conscious God, — 
Creation, born of Beauty and of Love, 
Beauty the womb and mother of all worlds. 
But soon with breathless speed the new-made earth 
Swept near me where I watched the birth of things. 
Its greatening bulk eclipsing, star by star, 
Half the bright heavens. Then I beheld crawl forth 
Upon the earth's cool crust most wondrous forms 
Wherein were hid, in transmutation strange. 
Sparks of the ancient, never-ending fire; 
Shapes moved not solely by exterior law 
But having will and motion of their own, — 
First sluggish and minute, then by degrees 
Monstrous, enorm. Then other forms more fine 
Streamed ceaseless on my sight, until at last, 
Rising and turning its slow gaze about 
Across the abysmal void the mighty child 
Of the supreme, divine Omnipotence — 
Creation, born of God, by him begot, 
Conscious in Man, no longer bhnd and dumb. 
Beheld and knew its father and its God. 



48 HYMN. 

II. 
HYMN: 

SUNG AT THE PRESENTATION OF THE OBELISK TO THE 
CITY OF NEW YORK, FEB. 22, 1881. 



Great God, to whom since time began 

The world has prayed and striven; 
Maker of stars, and earth, and man — 
To thee our praise is given. 
Here, by this ancient Sign 
Of thine own Light divine, 
We hft to thee our eyes 
Thou Dweller of the Skies, — 
Hear us, O God in Heaven ! 



Older than Nilus' mighty flood 
Into the Mid-Sea pouring, 



HYMN. 49 

Or than the sea, thou God hast stood, — 
Thou God of our adoring! 

Waters and stormy blast 

Haste when thou bid'st them haste; 

Silent, and hid, and still, 

Thou sendest good and ill: 
Thy ways are past exploring. 

III. 

In myriad forms, by myriad names, 

Men seek to bind and mold thee; 
But thou dost melt, like wax in flames, 
The cords that would enfold thee. 
Who madest life and light, 
Bring 'st morning after night, 
Who all things did'st create — 
No majesty, nor state, 
Nor word, nor world can hold thee! 

IV. 

Great God, to whom since time began 
The world has prayed and striven; 



HYMN 



Maker of stars, and earth, and man 
To thee our praise is given. 

Of suns thou art the Sun, — 

Eternal, holy One : 

Who can us help save thou ! 

To thee alone we bow ! 
Hear us, O God in Heaven ! 



A THOUGHT. 51 



III. 



A THOUGHT. 

Once, looking from a window on a land 

That lay in silence underneath the sun: 

A land of broad, green meadows, through which poured 

Two rivers, slowly widening to the sea, — 

Thus as I looked, I know not how nor whence, 

Was borne into my unexpectant soul 

That thought, late learned by anxious- witted man. 

The infinite patience of the Eternal Mind. 



THE VOICE OE THE PINE. 



IV. 



THE VOICE OF THE PINE. 

'Tis night upon the lake. Our bed of boughs 
Is built where — high above — the pine-tree soughs. 
'Tis still, — and yet what woody noises loom 
Against the background of the silent gloom! 
One well might hear the opening of a flower 
If day were hushed as this. A mimic shower 
Just shaken from a branch, how large it sounded. 
As 'gainst our canvas roof its three drops bounded! 
Across the rumpling waves the hoot-owl's bark 
Tolls forth the midnight hour upon the dark. 
What mellow booming from the hills doth come? — 
The mountain quarry strikes its mighty drum. 

Long had we lain beside our pine-wood fire, 
From things of sport our talk had risen higher; 
How frank and intimate the words of men 
When tented lonely in some forest glen! 



THE VOICE OF THE PINE. 53 

No daliying now with masks, from whence emerges 
Scarce one true feature forth. The night- wind urges 
To straight and simple speech. So we had thought 
Aloud; no well-hid secrets but were brought 
To, light. The spiritual hopes, the wild. 
Unreasoned longings that, from child to child. 
Mortals still cherish (though with modern shame), — 
To these, and things like these, we gave a name; 
And as we talked, the intense and resinous fire 
Lit up the towering boles, till nigh and nigher 
They gathered round, a ghostly company. 
Like beasts who seek to know what men may be. 



Then to our hemlock beds, but not to sleep,- 
For listening to the stealthy steps that creep 
About the tent, or falling branch, but most 
A noise was like the rusthng of a host. 
Or like the sea that breaks upon the shore, — 
It was the pine-tree's murmur. More and more 
It took a human sound. These words I felt 
Into the skyej darkness float and melt : 



54 



THE VOICE OF THE PINE. 



" Heardst thou these wanderers reasoning of a time 
When men more near the Eternal One shall climb ? 
How like the new-born child, who cannot tell 
A mother's arm that wraps it warm and well! 
Leaves of His rose; drops in His sea that flow, — 
Are they, alas, so blind they may not know 
Here, in this breathing world of joy and fear, 
They can no nearer get to God than here." 




MORNING AND NIGHT. 



55 



V. 
MORNING AND NIGHT. 



The mountain that the morn doth kiss 
Glad greets its shining neighbor: 

Lord! heed the homage of our bliss, — 
The incense of our labor. 



.II. 



Now the long shadows eastward creep, 

The golden sun is setting: 
Take, Lord! the worship of our sleep,- 

The praise of our forgetting. 



56 "DAY UNTO DAY UTTERETH SPEECH: 



VI. 



"DAY UNTO DAY UTTERETH SPEECH." 

The speech that day doth utter, and the night, 
Full oft to mortal ears it hath no sound; 
Dull are our eyes to read upon the ground 
What's written there; and stars are hid by light. 

So when the dark doth fall, awhile our sight 
Kens the unwonted orbs that circle round. 
Then quick in sleep our human sense is bound: 
Speechless for us the starry heavens and bright. 

But when the day doth close there is one word 
That's writ amid the sunset's golden embers; 
And one at morn; by them our hearts are stirred: 

Splendor of Dawn, — and Evening that remembers ; 
These are the rhymes of God; thus, line on line, 
Our souls are moved to thoughts that are divine. 



PART IV. 




I. 

THE SOUL. • 

THREE messengers to me from heaven came 
And said : " There is a deathless hmiian soul ; — 
It is not lost, as is the fiery flame 
That dies into the undistinguished whole. 

Ah, no; it separate is, distinct as God — 

Nor any more than He can it be killed : 

Then fearless give thy body to the clod, 

For naught can quench the light that once it filled ! " 

Three messengers, — the first was human Love; 
The second voice came crying in the night 
With strange and awful music from above, — 

None who have heard that voice forget it quite : 

Birth is it named. The third, O, turn not pale ! — 
'Tvvas Death to the undying soul cried. Hail! 

59 



6o '' IVHEN LOVE DAWNEDy 



II. 



''WHEN LOVE DAWNED." 

When love dawned on that world which is my mind, 
Then did the outer world wherein I went 
Suffer a sudden strange transfigurement, — 
It was as if new sight were given the blind. 

Then where the shore to the wide sea inclined 
I watched with new eyes the new sun's ascent : 
My heart was stirred within me as I leant 
And listened to a voice in every wind. 

O purple sea ! O joy beyond control ! 

O land of love and youth ! O happy throng ! 
Were ye then real, or did ye only seem ? 

Dear is that morning twiHght of the soul, — 
The mystery, the waking voice of song,; — 
For now I know it was not all a dream. 



LOVE AND DEATH. 



III. 



LOVE AND DEATH. 



Now who can take from us what we have known — 
We that have looked into each other's eyes ? 
Though sudden night should blacken all the skies, 
The day is ours, and what the day has shown. 

What we have seen and been, hath not this grown 
Part of our very selves ? We, made love-wise. 
What power shall slay our living memories, 
And who shall take from us what is our own ? 

So, when a shade of the last parting fell. 

This thought gave peace, as he deep comfort hath 
Who, thirsting, drinks cool waters from a well. 

But soon I felt more near that fatal breath: 
More near he drew, till I his face could tell, 
Till then unseen, unknown,— I looked on Death. 



62 LOVE AND DEATH, 



II. 

We know not where they tarry who have died ; 
The gate wherein they entered .is made fast : 
No hving mortal hath seen one who passed 
Hither, from out that darkness deep and wide. 

We lean on Faith ; and some less wise have cried, 
" Behold the butterfly, the seed that 's cast ! " 
Vain hopes that fall like flowers before the blast ! 
What man can look on Death unterrified ? 

Who love can never die ! They are a part 
Of all that lives beneath the summer sky; 
With the world's living soul their souls are one : 

Nor shall they in vast nature be undone 

And lost in the general life. Each separate heart 
Shall live, and find its own, and never die. 



FATHER AND CHILD, (^;^ 



IV. 



FATHER AND CHILD. 

Beneath the deep and solemn midnight sky, 
At this last verge and boundary of time 
I stand, and listen to the starry chime 
That sounds to the inward ear, and will not die. 

Now do the thoughts that daily hidden lie 
Arise, and live in a celestial clime, — 
Unutterable thoughts, most high, sublime, 
Crossed by one dread that frights mortality. 

Thus, as I muse, I hear my little child 
Sob in its sleep within the cottage near, — 
My own dear child ! — Gone is that mortal doubt ! 

The Power that drew our lives forth from the wild 
Our Father is; we shall to him be dear, 
Nor from his universe be blotted out! 



64 ''BEYOND THE BRANCHES OF THE FINE:' 
V. 

" BEYOND THE BRANCHES OF THE PINE." 

Beyond the branches of the pine 
The golden sun no more doth shine, 

But still the solemn after- glow 
Floods the deep heavens with light divine. 

The night-wind stirs the corn-field near, 
The gray moon turns to silver clear, 

And one by one the glimmering stars 
In the blue dome of heaven appear. 

Now do the mighty hosts of light 
Across the darkness take their flight, — 

They rise above the eastern hill 
And silent journey through the night. 

And there beneath the starry zone, 
In the deep, narrow grave, alone. 

Rests all that mortal was of her. 
The purest spirit I have known. 



AN AUTUMN MEDITATION. 65 



VI. 



AN AUTUMN MEDITATION. 

As THE long day of cloud and storm and sun 

Declines into the dark and silent night, 

So passed the old man's life from human gaze; 

But not till sunset, full of lovely light 

And color that the day might not reveal, 

Bathed in soft gloom the landscape. 

Thus kind Heaven 
Let me, too, die when Autumn holds the year. 
Serene, with tender hues, and bracing airs, — 
And near me those I love; with no black thoughts. 
Nor dread of what may come ! Yea, when I die 
Let me not miss from nature the cool rush 
Of northern winds; let Autumn sunset skies 
Be golden; let the cold, clear blue of night 
Whiten with stars as now! Then shall I fade 
From life to life, — pass on the year's full tide 



66 AN AUTUMN MEDITATION, 

Into the swell and vast of the outer sea 
Beyond this narrow world. 

For autumn days 
To me not melancholy are, but full 
Of joy and hope, mysterious and high, 
And with strange promise rife. Then it meseems 
Not failing is the year, but gathering fire 
Even as the cold increases. 



Grows a weed 
More richly here beside our mellow seas 
That is the Autumn's harbinger and pride. 
When fades the cardinal-flower, whose heart-red bloom 
Glows like a living coal upon the green 
Of the midsummer meadows, then how bright, 
How deepening bright like mounting flame doth burn 
The golden-rod upon a thousand hills ! 
This is the Autumn's flower, and to my soul 
A token fresh of beauty and of life, 
And life's supreme dehght. 



AN A UTUMN MEDITA TION. 



67. 



When I am gone, 
Something of me I would might subtly pass 
Within these flowers twain of all the year: 
So might my spirit send a sudden stir 
Into the hearts of those who love these hills, 
These woods, these waves, and meadows by the sea. 




6S ''CALL ME NOT DEAD:' 



VII. 



"CALL ME NOT DEAD." 

Call me not dead when I, indeed, have gone 
Into the company of the " everliving 
High and most glorious poets ! Let thanksgiving 
Rather be made. Say — "He at last hath won 

Rest and release, converse supreme and wise. 
Music and song and light of immortal faces : 
To-day, perhaps, wandering in starry places. 
He hath met Keats, and known him by his eyes. 

To-morrow (who can say) Shakespeare may pass, — 
And our lost friend just catch one syllable 
Of that three-centuried wit that kept so well, — 

Or Milton, — or Dante, looking on the grass 
Thinking of Beatrice, and listening still 
To chanted hymns that sound from the heavenly hill." 



''WHEN TO SLEEP I MUST:' 69 

VIII. 
"EACH MOMENT HOLY IS." 

Each moment holy is, for out from God 

Each moment flashes forth a human soul. 

Holy each moment is, for back to him 

Some wandering soul each moment home returns. 

IX. 

"WHEN TO SLEEP I MUST." 

When to sleep I must 
Where my fathers sleep; 
When fulfilled the trust, 
And the mourners weep ; 
When, though free from rust, 
Sword hath lost its worth. — 
Let me bring to earth 
No dishonored dust. 



yo TO A DEPARTED FRIEND. 



X. 



TO A DEPARTED FRIEND. 

Dear friend, who lovedst well this pleasant life! 
One year ago it is this very day 
Since thou didst take thy uncompanioned way 
Into the silent land, from out the strife 

And joyful tumult of the world. The knife 
Wherewith that sorrow cut us, still doth stay, 
And we, to whom thou daily didst betray 
Thy gentle soul, with faith and worship rife. 

Love thee not less but more, — as time doth go 
And we too hasten toward that land unknown 
Where those most dear are gathering one by one. 

The power divine that here did touch thy heart — 
Hath this withdrawn from thee, where now thou art ? 
Would thou indeed couldst tell what thou dost know. 



THE EVENING STAR. 



XI. 



THE EVENING STAR. 



71 



The evening star trembles and hides from him 
Who fain would hold it with imperious stare; 
Yet, to the averted eye, lo ! unaware 
It shines serene, no longer shy and dim. 

Oh, slow and sweet, its chalice to the brim 

Fills the leaf- shadowed grape with rich and rare 
Cool sunshine, caught from the white circling air! 
Home from his journey to the round world's rim — 

Through lonely lands, through cloudy seas and vext — 
At last the Holy Grail met Launfal's sight. 
So when my friend lost him who was her next 

Of soul, — life of her life, — all day the fight 

Raged with a dumb and pitiless God. Perplexed 
She slept. Heaven sent its comfort in the night. 



72 . I^IFE. 



XII. 

LIFE. 

I. 



Great Universe — what dost thou with thy dead! 

Now thinking on the myriads that have gone 

Into a seeming blank obHvion, 

With here and there a most resplendent head, — 
Eyes of such trancing sweetness, or so dread. 

That made the soul to quake who looked thereon, — 

All utterly wiped out, dismissed, and done: 

Lost, speechless, viewless, and forever fled! 
Myriad on myriad, past the power to count, — 

Where are they, thou dumb Nature ? Do they shine, 

Released from separate life, in summer airs. 
On moony seas, in dawns; — or up the stairs 

Of spiritual being slowly mount 

And by degrees grow more and more divine? 



LIFE. 73 



II. 



Ah, thou wilt never answer to our call, 

Thou Voiceless One, — naught in thee can be stirred, 
What though the soul, like to a frightened bird, 
Dash itself wildly 'gainst thy mountain-wall. 

From Nature comes no answer, though we fall 
In utmost anguish praying to be heard, 
Or peer below, or our brave spirits gird 
For steep and starry flight, — 'tis silent all. 

In vain to question — save the heart of man. 
The throbbing human heart, that still doth keep 
Its truth, love, hope, its high and quenchless faith. 

By day, by night, when all else faints in sleep, 
"Naught is but Life," it cries, "there is no death; 
Life, Life doth only live, since Life began." 



74 THE FREED SPIRIT. 

XIII. 
THE FREED SPIRIT. 

Brother of sorrow and mortality! 

Not always shall we chide the failing flesh 

That lets the netted soul to silence fly, 

Like a wild bird that breaks the treacherous mesh; 

Not always shall men curse in stormy sky 
The laughter and the fury of a Power 
That sees its chance-born children sink and die, — 
Hurling or death or life for dole or dower. 

Who deep his spirit searches can deny 

Oh nevermore, that Hfe doth leave a trace 
Of something not all heavenly; though we try 

Daily to turn toward Heaven a steadfast face. 
Even grief assoils us with its poisonous breath, — 
Then free our spirits utterly, pure Death ! 



UNDYING LIGHT, 

XIV. 
UNDYING LIGHT. 



When in the golden western summer skies 
A flaming glory starts, and slowly fades 
Through crimson tone on tone to deeper shades, 
There falls a silence, while the daylight dies 

Lingering, — but not with human agonies 
That tear the soul, or terror that degrades ; 
A holy peace the failing world pervades 
Nor any fear of that which onward lies; 

For well, ah well, the darkened vale recalls 
A thousand times ten thousand vanished suns ; 
Ten thousand sunsets from whose blackened walls 

Reflamed the white and living day that runs, 
In light which brings all beauty to the birth. 
Deathless forever round the ancient earth. 



75 



76 UNDYING LIGHT. 



O thou the Lord and Maker of Hfe and light ! 
Full heavy are the burdens that do weigh 
Our spirits earthward, as through twilight gray 
We journey to the end and rest of night; 

Though well we know to the deep inward sight 
Darkness is but thy shadow, and the day 
Where thou art never dies, but sends its ray 
Through the wide universe with restless might. 

O Lord of Light, steep thou our souls in thee! 
That when the daylight trembles into shade, 
And falls the silence of mortality, 

And all is done, — we shall not be afraid. 

But pass from light to light ; from earth's dull gleam 
Into the very heart and heaven of our dream. 



THE END. 



